Rogue Shadow
by Ki Ravenblood
Summary: ‘How cruel,’ he thought, ‘always being chased away by the merciless light that abhors you so. Perhaps we have a little more in common than we thought.’ Vincent tries to find that which has alluded him for so long. MM Sad Warnings inside, Pairings undecide


**Rogue Shadow**

**By:**** Ki Ravenblood**

**Chapter One: Shadow Dance**

**Written: November 21, 2007**

**Rating: T **

**Warnings: Serious mental deliberation, Vincent abuse. . . Possible insanity, violence, suggestive themes, shonen ai possible yaoi in later chapters. **

**Note: If you do not know the difference between yaoi and shonen ai note me and I will be glad to assist you.**

**FLAMES WILL BE IGNORED AND USED TO KEEP ME WARM THIS WINTER!!!**

**I understand that you have your opinions, but if you apt to use them to try and criticize and stunt my imagination because of what I consider close minded views then please know IT WILL NO WORK! I will continue to write as I see fit, and my imagination permits**

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_**lonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelone**_

There were nights when Vincent Valentine venerated the auto-lock system on the Shera, when the invading stares of the AVALANCHE crew became too much for him to handle and he just needed to escape. He had become more tolerant of their questioning looks and their feeble attempts at trying to cheer him up but tonight he just could not deal with it any longer than necessary. Yuffie Kisaragi, with her ongoing clinginess and Cid Highwind with his sarcastic outbursts and vulgar jokes. Then there was Tifa Lockhart with her constant stares and her desire to help that which did not need to be helped; it was all enough to drive anybody mad, but perhaps the worst was Cloud Strife, who was similar in manner and action as himself, though a tad more open, it really depended on the day, and today wasn't one of them. Strife was in a sour mood, which made each member of AVALANCHE equally dark. Vincent did not, could not, understand the blond's affect on people, how he was able to delve so deeply down into the subconscious without even realizing he was doing it; it was unnerving and Vincent had to get away because the sword wielder was choosing targets.

Sighing, and shivering against the draft that came from being so close to the wing fans, Vincent pulled his cloak closer to him, burying his head into the wide brimmed collar so only his eyes could be seen, if anyone were there to actually see them. Vincent's smile was a sorrowful image, his scarlet-crimson orbs darkening as he looked at the shadows of his aircraft room. He hated it, feeling trapped behind metal walls, every time he was in the aircraft he was back in the coffin, with the tight packed air, the feeling of lightheadedness, and he was always alone, no matter how many of AVALANCHE or the WRO surrounded him. And it wasn't just the walls, the sound of the cooling system put behind the wall, it was an advanced machine, silent to most, but a deafening torture on the lonely nights he spent aboard the ship. He never told of his torment, even though as his migraines increased so did the concerned glances he received from Tifa. Nanaki seemed to hate the aircraft as much as himself, sharing many of the same qualities, as was to be expected of another put through similar torture from the mad scientist Hojo.

Whenever he thought of Hojo it was like he was reading a bad horror novel, published simply because no one had anything better to do than read about some poor damsel in distress running away from some terrible monster chasing her around with a kitchen knife, just thinking 'mad scientist' induced these thoughts. But Hojo had hardly been some poorly developed villain rather than a true live horror that still haunted the nightmares of many, and 'mad scientist' was really the only fitting term.

With another shiver Vincent walked slowly over to the small uncomfortable cot that was built into the wall. Cid really had never intended on having any of them for extended periods of time, and he wasn't the richest of men, so he did not splurge on the finer riches in life, such as good furniture for guest quarters, though each on did have a decent shelf, a chair, and a small dresser in case they ever did come to stay for longer than intended. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, supported on two sides but the metal wall it was protruding from and a single leg that was similarly attached to the floor. The springs squeaked slightly, but not enough to bother him. Laying his arms down on his lap and bowing his head he stared at the two limbs with distaste, one was normal to the naked eye, though thickly covered in leather so that no once could see the pale skin beneath, his other was covered in a golden monstrosity of a gauntlet, with layers of sharp golden sheets of metal. No one knew what truly rested beneath the metal casing, and Vincent had no desire to quench their curiosity. It wasn't for his amusement to see them so interested, rather he could not bare to bring up the topic of why he hid his arm from them. Clenching his fists he closed his eyes, trying to block out the site of the hideous claw, but it only became more evident and more painful in the darkness of his mind.

Choking back a sob as he remembered the incision into his left arm he turned his head away, he remembered the sick laugh of a lusty man as he cut deep into his flesh with the soon to be crimson stained tip of the scalpel, the throb in his chest from when he his organs had been examined while he lay their, drugged and awake, and he remembered her, staring at him and his suffering with those innocent blue eyes; he had loved those eyes, almost as much as he had loved her. "Lucrecia." he said with a strained whisper. She had been the wife of Hojo, and his father's, Dr. Valentine's, old lab assistant before the accident, and she, in the name of science, had been the creator of monsters. The memories stirred restlessly in his head, and he felt a presence within him consume them with a starving impatience. 'Chaos' it was the nameless beast that had been opened within his soul, a being who haunted him with as equal a ferocity as Hojo himself. Vincent longed for the days when he was trapped within his self-imposed prison, the tight corners of the coffin that had held him tightly for thirty years, he coveted the days when the reminders of his torture and sins were not before him on a daily basis, and he yearned for the days when Chaos was silent. Ignorance had been bliss when he had lived with a sense of amnesia, but now he was faced with his demons and had to look them strait in the eyes; it was unbearable.

With a slow release of a breath he had been holding Vincent turned, and quickly unbuckled the cloak, dropping it from his shoulders. He usually would not remove the tattered garment, even when he slept, but it was causing him to overheat, even when he was so cold, and it was too strong a reminder of what he was trying to forget. The gunman wanted to move on, wished that in good conscience he could, but it seemed that the planet had started ignoring his prayers, and he was left to deal with his sins on his own. He lied the night he told Cloud that he never tried to repent, and perhaps that is what was his downfall. The young blond had needed the advice of an elder, he needed to be pointed in the direction of repentance, and Vincent could not give him that, and the kid had remembered, like a an eagle remembered her hunting territory, their blond leader was able to retain every detail that his team relayed to him, and eventually he would hone in on whether or not they were being honest with him. Strife had become angry when he found Vincent staring out of the thick glass window with a broken look that he had not realized had been visible ( Vincent's guard against his emotions was getting increasingly worse as he kept himself exiled from the rest of the world.) and Cloud had known of his dishonesty. Vincent's mistake is that he had not denied it.

Vincent had wanted to save Cloud from the knowledge of the effects his past had on him, to the extents he had taken in order to atone, he had wanted to protect the young man from that. But their leader was rash and took everything to heart. He was an able warrior, and he affected people deeply, but he was not the best at reading their intentions, and if met with duplicity, even in the sense of protection he became withdrawn or irate, this evening it had been the latter. Such a simple lie, and Vincent was left speechless as, in his own silent way, Cloud began to berate his morality. Vincent had been unable to argue, and for endless minutes had been put in front of the gun of more than half of the AVALANCHE members, most of who had no idea what was going on, but by sheer loyalty went to Cloud's aid. Only Nanaki had understood Vincent's reservations in lying to Cloud, but afraid that he too would become target, Vincent had shook his head when the large feline had tried to come to his aid.

If Vincent were more open he would have told Cloud that, "The truth hurts." and it may have been selfish, but if he had told the swordsman exactly what had happened to him he thought the sheer force of his past would destroy him, and his sanity had already come into question on too many occasions.

The crimson eyed gunman was taken from his thoughts when he heard a rapping at the metal door. He stared at it blandly, not making any attempt to move from where he was. After several seconds the knocking slowed down, then eventually died all together, and he could hear someone walking away down the hall. Turning his head away from the door he looked ahead of him into the shadows, the room was completely dark except for the light that was coming in from the small window directly to his right, but that didn't bother him any, for the shadows were one of the few comforts he had. 'How cruel,' he thought, 'always being chased away by the merciless light that abhors you so much. Perhaps we have a little more in common that we thought.' his thoughts were cynical, he wasn't depressed, or a pessimist, not really. . . His outlook had just darkened after some crossroads in his early life that even he could not deny were shoddier than most ever experienced, even in a messed up world as theirs.

Bringing up his knees he wrapped his arms around them, resting his head between their break. He closed his eyes wanting to find some relief in the darkness, forget the betrayed glances he had received from the member's of AVALANCHE, as if he had gunned down one of his own.

Perhaps he had.

_**Lonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelonelylinelone**_

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Well that's it for chapter one, I'm sorry if it's too long, and I know it's a little dull, but I have a lot of idea's I'll have another chapter posted pronto.

Rating is due to change. . . Possibly, or I might decide to make one of my stories decent.

HAPPY TURKEYDAY!!!!


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